Xentar Kentam

Xentar raised an eyebrow. I guess that wasn't too hard, he thought with a slight mental smile of amusement. He was even more amused at his reward, which appeared to be some sort of hug. Serpent Lords didn't tend to get many hugs these days, and Xentar was no exception. Then again, they weren't exactly endless wells of outward affection. Now he returned his attention to the squall, which seemed quite joyous. It had rolled another pine cone away from a tree and left it alone. He stared at the squall. "It's just a pine cone," he said in his deep voice. "What do you want me to do with it?"

Xentar continued to frown as he thought. Maybe the squall just wanted him to bury the pinecone out in the field instead of on the barren ground here. He grabbed the cone and headed out in the field, then proceeded to do what he had done before, digging at the ground first with his boot, then with his hands and burying the cone.

Xentar frowned at the squall's actions. It was clear that it wanted him to bury the pinecone as he had done, but it wasn't satisfied with his prior action. When it faced the meadow he wondered if he was supposed to bury it out there, but the squall had already picked a suitable patch of ground in which the pinecone could be suitably interred. It could also be pointing at the life of the area, as if it wanted Xentar to do more than just plant the seed. He crouched and looked at the animal. "I can plant the seeds, but I cannot make them grow," he said to it, as if expecting it to understand. What is it that's wanted of me?

Xentar stared down at the pine cone on his boot, then looked again at the Squall. Seems simple enough, he decided, supposing that the animal wanted him to bury the object for some reason yet unknown to him. He didn't have a spade on him, and the dirt was too tough for his fingers, so he pulled his lightsaber off his belt and thumbed it on, being sure not to hit Vivi in the process. He carefully dipped the blade into the dirt, then deactivated it before proceeding to kneel and work the hole a little wider with his hands. When it was sufficiently large, he dropped the cone in and found enough loose dirt to bury it. The Serpent then looked at the Squall. Now what?

Xentar remained still for a moment, making clear that he was not making his decision compulsively. The new Archserpent seemed to take him backward a step, refuting his position as Serpent Master perhaps without even knowing of its existence. But that was the thing about being a Master in the ways of the Force--it was not merely a title, but an achievement of being, an amount of skill reached, a measure of his connection to the Dark Side. The large man was no less powerful than he had been a moment before, but apparently his achievement had been made in an incomplete Serpent doctrine, taught by a man who himself knew not all that was required. Kentam wanted the knowledge that had been withheld. Yes. He hated the Sith as much as the Jedi, and wanted not to go back to them and their compulsive darkness. Nor did he wish to travel out on his own, for though he was powerful, he was not beyond wishing for the bonds of the Order that he had tried to sustain when things were bleak. "I know not what you mean by ascending past use of the Force, but I hope to learn in time," he finally answered, by way of a decision. He then stopped and picked up the Squall, Vivi, and carried it outside. It was a bit of a strange sight, he supposed, to a watcher--a large, bald man with scarred flesh and singed clothing and a lightsaber on his belt carrying such a small, playful creature. He did not, of course, know what Rocketblaze had meant by "play", so he set the creature down. He had heard a few things about Squalls, and he knew they were much more intelligent than they appeared.

Xentar let annoyance flood him, but kept it perfectly in check visually and in his Force presence. He enjoyed feeling strong emotion--it gave him focus, fed him power. Who was this man to say whether Xentar had grown since he spontaneously disappeared years before? Well, he was apparently Rocketblaze, the founder of the Serpent Order, and one that should know what he was looking for. The problem was that he hadn't looked. "I see little reason to defend myself, Rocketblaze," he said, this time actually leaving off the title. "I am stronger than you think in the ways of the Serpent Order. You have been gone for a long time, and you have missed much. The ways of the Sith are no longer with me, subsumed by the ways of a Serpent." And though I respect you, I will not show it until you give me reason to affirm such respect, he added mentally. He didn't yet mention that he had ascended to the rank of Master. Rocketblaze should be able to tell from his obvious aptitude in the dark side that was coursing through him that he was powerful. But if the old Archserpent needed guiding to that conclusion, it would be Moric who revealed such, for it was Moric that had ascended them both.

Xentar paused just as he was summoning a fireball to cast at a makeshift target he had constructed with a thought, also from flame. The dark side was eating away at him, his flesh was nettling, and the dryness of his body was irritating, but he had trained on. Until now, for something was different. Someone was here. A familiar someone. Two familiar someones. Old Serpents. Xentar's fireball disintegrated in a puff of smoke, and he got a drink of water as an announcement went over the intercomm, which hadn't been used in some time. It was made by Rocketblaze, one-time Archserpent. And Archserpent again, it seemed. This was interesting. Here Xentar was, one of the only Serpents, holding the name for the galaxy, and now others were back. Standing up straight, the tall Serpent Master headed for Rocketblaze's location as the man was being joined by the other familiar presence--that of Garet Jax, another of Xentar's teachers when yet he was young to the Order. He was driven by curiosity to see what had brought these beings back, for he respected them, but was not particularly inclined to take orders from Rocketblaze just yet. His black robes singed and his skin a little charred, the huge man walked into the room and up to Rocketblaze. He didn't bow. "It has been some time, Master Rocketblaze," he said unceremoniously, almost not deigning to use the title, his hands loose at his sides. "What brings you back to Chandrila now? And you, Master Jax?" He wished Moric would show up again. It would be easier to fill the others in together. He briefly through an appraising glance at the one he didn't recognize. Perhaps Rocketblaze has made a friend in his absence? he thought with a mental snort of amusement that showed only slightly on his features.

Xentar, alone, practiced. He wielded the flame of the Serpents like few before had--for few Serpents had there been. With it, he formed shapes and blades, vast fires and forests of flame. The scarred stone of the room in which he trained heated almost to melting point at times, and Xentar's sweat came like a river. Although he was immune to the flames themselves, he was having some difficulty staying hydrated. He took frequent brakes to drink some water before getting back to practicing. He could fight if need be with quite a bit of flame and not start to let dehydration claim him, but he couldn't do it forever. The Tournament in which he and Moric had fought had had a neat way of healing the combatants between fights, and Xentar now marvelled at that more than ever. As he practiced, he also fine-tuned his lightsaber form, direct, quick, and powerful. He struck with deadly force and blinding speed. He studied the paradox of lightsaber combat, tuning his skills at misdirection and deception, and employed the dark side for quick, unexpected little moves here and there that would give him an even greater edge over the opponents he could face. It was a good day.

Xentar spent most of the wait being patient for Menthu to come back, but as the time grew on, his patience started to flounder. He was a Serpent Master, not one who liked to waste his time; and not one who had much patience. Waiting was too orderly, and he was a man of chaos. Focusing on himself, he reached down into his body and felt the heat that always resided there. He touched the well of dark side power that could be found in the core of any accomplished dark sider, and he ignited it with his own heat. Fire sprung through his veins, and it felt good. He opened his mouth in a smile, and flame swirled out from it with his exhalation. Then he threw his arms out and exerted himself. Bam! A pillar of fire rose up from his large form, wider than his armspan and hundreds of meters tall in a second. It burned the air, burned what was in the air, and burned the Force as its primary source of feul. Xentar's eyes remained shut and he maintained the great deific pillar, exerting himself mentally and physically against the intense heat. It became a contest of will against himself, and he would maintain that pillar of flame.

Reaching out with the Force, Xentar felt another curious soul. Someone that felt rather like Menthu had when he first arrived--with that sense of destiny and potential affinity for the Serpents. If Xentar hadn't known any better, he would have thought that the man had come directly to him to ask for Serpent training. Of course, knowledge of the order here was almost unknown. "I think we'll need further strength before we enter galactic affairs," Xentar told Menthu. "There is a potential candidate near us now. Go, find and recruit him, and bring him here." Maybe I'll train him, maybe Menthu will. Maybe we both will. I myself was made a Serpent by a coalition of Masters....

Xentar's eyes narrowed slightly as Menthu started talking as cryptically as a Jedi Master. "You want to strike the Arach'tar," he clarified. "There is great danger in that sort of action, though I have never turned away from the threat of a challenge." At the same time, it's difficult to strike at an enemy that can not be found except in extreme numbers, he thought. Yet I deign to align the Serpents with the Sith, Jedi, Alliance or Empire.

Xentar nodded. "Very well, Menthu," he said. "There is a galaxy full of order and chaos around us, and as Serpents we must serve that chaos. So tell me--where do you think we could apply our strength to greatest effect?" It was probably the first time Xentar had asked Menthu his opinion on a matter. Before, he simply hadn't really cared. But now he was speaking to a Serpent Lord, someone who deserved a little bit of respect. Xentar was a Master, but it was foolish to domineer those under you. This was chaos, not blind order.

For the first time since the training had begun, Xentar let a real, genuine smile grace his face for the briefest of moments before it again disappeared. He did it. Good. I thought he would, the Serpent Master thought. He didn't really feel pride for bringing the apprentice to this point, but he supposed it wouldn't be wrong to do so. The apprentice was now transformed before him. Turned from merely a man into something real. Xentar continued to look at him as the vapor returned to its liquid form. A moment later, it was as deep as it had been when the trial had began, and still the apprentice stood. "What is your name, Serpent Lord?" Xentar finally asked. This was a statement with dual purpose--he was asking for a name where before he had known none, and he was promoting the apprentice to the rank of full Serpent Lord. He knew what he needed to.

Xentar closed his eyes when the apprentice reached the desired point in the pool. He stretched out with his feelings and tested the apprentice's Force barrier, felt his doubt. Doubt is something you will not need, Xentar thought. But if this kills you, then I was mistaken in thinking you ready. A moment later, the Serpent Master stretched out his hand over the water, and from it poured an endless gout of flame. The flame hit the water and immediately it started to boil, the heat expanding like a destructive ripple over the otherwise still waters. It leapt toward Procs, and still more fire in the air did the same. Suddenly, the entire pool area was an inferno, water vaporizing into steam and distorting in powerful heat shimmers. The theory was tried and true. If the apprentice truly opened himself to the Force and embraced the flame and heat, the Force in him and his very body would make a fundamental, elemental change. They would become one with the fire as Xentar was. It would grant the apprentice immunity to fire and the ability to call upon it basically at will. Xentar basked in the makeshift hell that he was continuing to produce. Flame engulfed him and his apprentice and the chamber suddenly resembled the inside of a volcano rather than the relaxing, peaceful scene that had been lost. Flammable things went alight (Xentar's own cloak was fire retardant for just this reason). The sheer heat was enough to cause things to burst into flame. The Dark Side fire ravaged all. Then Xentar halted it, two full minutes after it had begun. It was time to see if the apprentice lived still.

Xentar gestured at the small lake. "Take off your clothes and enter the water until you're halfway submerged," he instructed. He would go about this exactly as Moric had when he had performed it upon Xentar. It was the only way he knew how, and he would be faithful to that. "Once you are there, form a Force barrier to protect yourself from what is to come. A strong one." He would have liked Moric to have performed it this time, too, but he had been out of contact for a while. Xentar hoped he would return--it would be difficult to lead the Serpent Order himself. And it wouldn't help the Order to keep losing its members. Xentar remembered a time when Garet Jax, Tashkri, and Rocketblaze had led the order. They had all passed, leaving Moric and Xentar. If Moric was gone, too, then the Serpents would start to look like the Sith had for a large chunk of their past. Presently, he had to focus on inducting another member officially into the ranks. He waited for the apprentice to follow his orders.